Tatterhood: Don't Mess With A GoatRider
by taniaSLC
Summary: The old fairy tale of the girl who rides a goat, carries a wooden spoon, and is as strange and uncontrollable as her red hair, re-told.
1. From The Mouths of Babes

**The Story of Tatterhood**

**or: Why You Should Never Mess With A Girl Who Rides A Goat**

Once upon a time there was a kingdom with the nicest, handsomest, and best rulers any land had ever known. King Hal and Queen Beatrix were two people who were so complete and happy in their love for each other that others felt stronger and more well-off just being around them. Their kingdom flourished financially and never fought wars. It was a land of rolling green hills, fields of amber-hued grains which waved frequently in the gentle breezes which always seemed to blow sweetly, and softly running brooks tamed by rough-hewn bridges which frequently hosted lovers walking arm in arm. It was an idyllic land of happy people whose only burning question was why the glorious king and queen had never decided to have children.

Truth be told, though it was little known in the land, both royals wished for many children upon whom to lavish all the love and affection that flooded both their hearts. They wished to have offspring to govern the land they loved when they were gone, to see that it was always protected and cared for just as well as they cared for and protected it. They burned to have children's enthusiastic voices echoing through the walls of their open-aired palace, to be able to click their tongues and lecture someone for leaving fingerprints on the marble walls, to have small, tangible representations of their love running about and causing the joy and havoc which only children can wreak.

Alas, despite tears and prayers, the queen never, never found herself with child. She tried everything she'd ever heard or known- she tried exerting herself physically to make herself strong enough to grow and birth a child, but that didn't work. She tried to rest as much as possible, to retain her energy to give to a life growing within her, but that failed also. She tried eating more, eating less, eating only fruit, eating only meat, standing on her head, and other things best kept to the privacy of the royal budoir. But all of her efforts (as well as those of the king) failed to result in a child. This was the great sadness which clouded the hearts of both King Hal and Queen Beatrix.

To fill the void in her heart, Queen Beatrix always allowed children from nearby villages to come to the palace and play. She would provide food for the children, let them run through the grounds, ride the horses, and frolic in the fountain; and all were pleased by this arrangement.

One day a very quiet girl broke away from the other children and approached the queen, who had been watching a handful of little ones splash each other in the fountain. The queen smiled at the young girl, a bewitchingly lovely Gypsy child, and offered her a piece of chocolate. The girl accepted, thanked the queen, and slowly savored the morsel, yet her eyes never left the queen's face. After a moment the intensity of the girl's stare disquieted Her Royal Highness and she gave an uncomfortable laugh.

"Did you need something, child? Can I help you?"

The little girl shook her head, no. "But I can help you, my Queen."

"Oh, you can, can you?" The queen had spent enough time with children to know that they sometimes spoke in strange ways, and was used to humoring them when they did so.

"I should certainly appreciate your help. With what shall you help me?"

"You want a baby. I know how you can become pregnant."

Queen Beatrix was more than a little astonished to hear this come from the girl's lips. True enough, there was something uncannily precocious in the girl's face, but there was still the question of what so small a child could know about the matter of making babies where none would grow previously.

"What would you recommend?"

Her nearly-black eyes still boring into the queen's, the girl solemnly stuck a thumb between her lips and issued the next statement around said digit.

"First, you must go on a sort of journey. This will show to God that you are willing to work for that which you most desire. Don't worry- it's dangerous, but not so very far. Do you think you have the strength to do so?"

The elfin girl with curly black hair now had the queen's undivided attention. She seemed no more than six, yet spoke as though her very soul were older than the grown woman she was addressing. Were all Gypsies like this? At any rate, Beatrix nodded eagerly, afraid to discourage the girl in any way. She somehow felt that the instructions she was listening to would, truly, result in a pregnancy.

"Tomorrow night there will be a lunar eclipse. It is when the moon is blacked out that you must go into the Stygian Forest which is just outside of this town- you know where that is, of course, my Queen."

The Stygian Forest? Everyone knew that the forest was the property of the trolls, ogres, hags, and other unsavory types. It was the only place in the kingdom which was cloaked in enough darkness for these creatures to thrive. All in all they were left alone by everyone else in the land- partly from fear and partly from respect. No one wanted to encroach on the lands of such strange creatures lest they be taken and used for Dark purposes. For, as everyone knew, once you set foot in the Stygian Forest, anything that saw you could take you for its own. The inhabitants of the place rarely, if ever, ventured forth from their Dark place, and everyone respected these unwritten rules.

"If you enter the forest just as the moon goes out, no one will see you. You must follow the Sanguine River that will be there for a mile. After that the river will fork and just in the center of the fork, you will find two plants. One will be a lovely, luminous flower- you will find it in the dark because it glows with its own light. Don't ask how such a beautiful thing can come from such a dark place, for no one knows, but it is there. Next to the flower is a weed- sickly, pale, twisted, and unappealing. When you see the weed, you'll know that the flower you see is the right one.

"You must eat the flower, pluck the weed, and cast it into the river. You must do this quickly, for the eclipse cannot last for long. Only long enough for you to follow my instructions exactly. Eat the flower, cast the weed into the waters, and flee back to your land. If you do exactly as I say, you shall make it to the edge of the forest before the moon once more lights the way.

"If you do everything I said, just the way I said, you will become a mother within the next year. If you fail in any way, I cannot vouch for your safety or that of the children you may one day bear. Thank you again for the chocolate, my Queen."

The girl curtsied to the queen, turned, and exited. For her part, Beatrix was trying hard to commit to memory all the child had said.

It was all madness, she reminded herself. There was simply no way a child could know such things. Children told tales, that was all.


	2. The Weed Tasted Better

Beatrix spent the day chuckling to herself over the recollection of the sincerity in the child's face as she had talked, shaking her head at the strange stories offered by the young. But all the while, she knew that she would go to the forest. She was terrified of the danger it promised, but also mindful that she would brave more than mere terror in order to bear a child.

And so it came to pass that, in the darkest watch of the night, Queen Beatrix slipped unhesitantly to the edge of the Stygian Forest. She was cloaked all in black, and her vividly red tresses bound in a black veil, her long, white hands clothes in black kidskin gloves. Her heart beat violently within her- partially from fear of the dread interior toward which she headed, partly in anticipation of the Gypsy girl's words coming true. She knew they would- she knew it in her very soul.

She waited and the moon, as promised, became hidden. She ran over the border and saw, to her right, a flowing river, flowing away- the Sanguine River. She had not realized how literal a name it was- whether it flowed with blood or red silt did not seem to matter as she gaped at the surging red water and, wordlessly, followed it away.

She was certain the dreaded forest was as horrid as the stories told, but she let her eyes stay only on the river and the path in front of her feet (not that she could see them in the dark- she had carefully worn her blackest boots and the effect was that, now, she felt as if her feet weren't even there, touching the ground, finding their way over the rough banks of the queer river, and she felt as if, perhaps, she herself was not there either, being, as she was, absent her own feet). She walked quickly, almost running, running, for what felt like forever. Strange noises seemed to waft to her from the nearest trees, to gurgle up from the river, the river which had commenced running at the entrance to the forest but seemed to have no beginning.

Just when she was wishing she'd thought of figuring out some way to make note of how far she'd come- the girl had said a mile, but Beatrix had no way of deducing if she'd come a mile, or a step, or a thousand miles, everything here was so confusing, her darkened body felt so distant- she found the fork in the river. And there, on the ground before her, were the plants of which the girl had spoken.

Many would have been surprised to find that the child had been correct, but for the Queen's part, she simply wasted no time with thought. She plucked the lovely, glowing, green flower and ate it in a single bite. It filled her mouth with the sweetest, almost painfully delicious flavor, and she felt a sort of power rushing down her throat as the flowers was swallowed, and she was filled with utter peace and contentment.

Immediately, she plucked the weed as well and was about to send it to the rushing red depths of the river as instructed… but then she paused. And paused again, still holding the weed.

It wasn't exactly so unappetizing as the girl had described. In fact, it glowed as brightly as the flower, perhaps more so, now that the flower was disappeared inside her belly and was no longer there to outshine the weed. The oddest thing was that the weed, though a black-green color, seemed to glow red. Perhaps the river was reflecting on it, but in the absence of light, that seemed unlikely.

The flower had been so delicious, and in her haste, she had barely had time to savor it, had just consumed it. The weed would have to taste as good- it came from the same earth, was fed by the same river… surely its flavor would be as rare and delectable. And surely, it could not hurt to eat it as well. If she took it with her, to eat on the way, it would not prolong the venture, and she could savor it, could take the time to roll it over and around her tongue and mouth as she walked in that terrifying darkness- perhaps its power would give her courage, guide her steps, and get her back all the more quickly!

And so, for the first time, Queen Beatrix listened to her heart and not the words of the child, the words that had gotten her this far and not steered her incorrectly. As she began to walk away and take the weed between her lips, this thought did not occur to her. It did not occur to her that she had stopped, even for so short a time, to deliberate. It only occurred to her that she was right- the weed tasted better than the flower.

She walked and walked, not so quickly as before, because she focused on her mouth instead of her feet. She walked and walked, slowly relishing the entirety of the weed before swallowing it, and even threw back her head as she swallowed, enjoying the surge of sweetness and spice as it traveled away to her stomach, where she could still feel it glowing.

One could easily point to much or any of the above as the single mistake that resulted in Beatrix still standing in the forest, half a mile from the hedgerows marking the edge of the Stygian territory, when the moon once more returned, in all its fullness.

She opened her eyes from the enjoyment of her weird delicacy and began to notice something which was amiss- namely that it wasn't just the river that was red. The water had gleamed in the absence of light, letting her see it even then. But when the moonlight returned she realized her (possibly) fatal mistake: everything in the Stygian Forest was not black. Indeed, the grass, the trees, even the dirt around them all was a fierce, fiery crimson- and her black-clad self stood out among her surroundings as much as if she'd stood and screamed, "Hey, ghoulies, ghosties, and long-legged beasties- HERE I AM!"

Suddenly realizing exactly how foolish she'd been to linger- and over a weed!- she quickly broke into a very respectable run. Queens, as a rule, don't run very often, but perhaps she had been saving all of her speed and skill for a moment when it was required. Which would be now. She ran and she ran, her black boots no longer feeling disjointed from the ground, standing out in bas-relief, black against the red earth, and every step jarred her straight up her legs through to the top of her head, but she was through with pausing and hesitation was no longer hers.

It was quite a good run, and that's why she made it all the way to the edgey border before the goblins finally caught her.

_Author's Note: I cannot thank all you enough- those who reviewed, those who added my story to your alerts list- you are all very kind and you make me feel... lovely. I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but I hope to add a longer one in the rather near future... I hope you all liked this chapter and I promise- the goat comes soon, really. It's sto strange to think of anyone reading and liking what I'm writing- I hope I don't let you guys down._


	3. God Give Me Grace

The goblins in question had been soaring about on their broomsticks, bumping into things and each other in the dark when the light of the moon had returned to the forest. At first, as a result of their bumblings, their vision was still blurry and they all saw the Queen at the same time, but they all saw three or four versions of her and all were running in different directions. They finally got their senses, such as they were, about them enough to decide conclusively that there was but one actual Queen, and to hightail after her rapidly escaping form.

They drew up to her just as she was near the wall, just as her heart had begun to beat normally, just as she had decided that, perhaps, she was not going to die here. They flew in tight circles about her head, the five of them, and filled her with a fear that drew all color from her face and stopped her blood cold as she took in their vile appearance.

They were small, knobby-headed creatures, with slick black-green skin and large, rounded ears. Their stubby little fingers clutched their broomsticks and their dull eyes followed her as they went around and around, as she stayed in place.

"What have we here, darlings? Looks it to you as if we've caught…" Here, the leader of the goblins leaned in and sniffed. The pause in the whirlwind caused her brother to crash into her, and he fell from his broom. The others stopped their careering in order to laugh at the fallen brethren. The laughing caused another one to fall of its broom and the Queen began to think maybe she could get out of this situation alive after all.

"Fools! Menace! Menace! Back on brooms, now!" She shook her head, sadly, feeling once more the burden of being The Smart One.

"She smells human- that's what I was saying. Smells human, this one…"

Her attention returned to the Queen, and she reached a hand toward Beatrix. Before Beatrix could duck or move away, the Goblin Queen ripped the black scarf from her head, and a multitude of rumpled red curls spilled over the Queen's shoulders and toward her back. She felt horribly exposed, and also wondered if, to look at her, her hair would blend into the forest around her.

"Well, are you human? Or have you just eaten one recently and taken on their ugly look and smell?"

"Oh, gracious Goblin Queen- yes, yes, I am a human. Oh, please grant me safe passage from your glorious kingdom!"

"No! You are here and we have caught you- belong to us, you do. Ours, now."

One of the other goblins spoke up, revealing a very high-pitched, squeaky voice- "But humans smell foul, sister! We don't want the human! She's ugly, this one."

"No- I say we take the human! We need a maid! She will work for us and clean!"

"But dirty is better- smells better than clean," yet another sibling spoke up. "We just got our home to smell nice and foul. This thing… ugh- we'd lose her in the forest everyday! Her hair is the color of the trees!"

"Oh, no!" Interjected Beatrix. "I shall clean for you- I can clean better than anything. I'm a washerwoman for the queen and king and no one can make the palace sparkle and shine like I can. I clean with lemon and salt and everything smells fresh and sweet when I am done!"

At this, one of the goblins was so repulsed that they quickly turned and flew away, hiding themselves in trees in order to become sick in private.

"Lemon! Lemon! Lemon is poison to goblins! She is very stupid, sister. I want her to go now! No, wait- I want to go now! Yes, that was it! Come, brother!"

And so only two goblins remained before the Queen. The leader continued to look at her, to sniff the air near her, questioningly, and giving her a knowing look that made Beatrix quite scared. All of the goblins seemed quite foolish, but this goblin in particular seemed an odd combination of foolishness and some sort of insight.

"You know, don't you, washerwoman, that if goblins find something here, it belongs to them. These are the laws."

"Yes, I had heard that."

"So, you know, no doubt, that you belong to me now, don't you?"

Beatrix cast her eyes downward, fearful at this turn of discussion. "I know that you speak troth."

At this point the goblin who was not speaking began to snore, and the Goblin Queen realized that her last brother had remained at her side not from loyalty and steadfastness, but because he'd fallen asleep before the others had left.

"My brothers and sisters are not keen on you. And you carry children within you- I've no patience with young ones. They are too, too loud. But, hear me, woman. I will take time, I will convince my brothers and sisters that you need serve us and us alone. I will give you time to birth your children and let them stop being those loud, screaming things your kind bear. Ten years from now, I will come claim you. You will be ours from then forward. Understand?"

"Ten years."

"And if you come not willingly then- I will take your children in your stead. I take this… head covering as a token. It is you, giving word. Be gone now!"

And the queen of goblins flew away, taking the black scarf, leaving her still-sleeping brother, and leaving Beatrix with nothing to do but gather her wits and run, panting, back to the palace.

Beatrix spoke to no one of what she had done, what she had seen, of the threat hanging over her head. Part of her quietness was do to feeling foolish for her deeds, part of it was her fervent hope that the Goblin Queen would forget her promise to come in ten years, and part of it was the ecstasy that was hers, her king's, and the entire kingdom's when it was announced far and wide that the beloved queen was, at last, with child.

It soon became apparent that not only was the Queen to bear one child, but another was on its way as well, and the kingdom rejoiced doubly at the good fortune of its beloved leaders. Everywhere were banners of gold and purple, celebrating the continuing good health of Queen Beatrix, King Hal, and their impending brood. Every evening fireworks were shot into the sky, reminding the citizens to pray for the well-being of the Queen (though none needed reminding).

Nine months after her fateful visit to the forest, nine months after an hour of sheer terror beside a river of blood, the Queen came to her lying in. The midwife remarked that it was the easiest birth she'd ever attended, that God must be blessing the Queen for her goodness. Queen Beatrix responded that it seemed not so simple and straightforward to her, and as if to emphasize the point, from within her spring the oddest sight any held ever beheld: a girl, with red hair that could only be called crazy and wild (the hair, not the girl, although doubt regarding the matter of her sanity was a close companion for her entire life), carrying a wooden spoon, wearing a tattered cloak with a hood that failed to subdue her masses of hair, and riding on a goat. The goat bleated, the spoon was raised in triumph and the creature before her spoke a single word, "Mamma!" as she looked, exultingly, at the Queen.

"If I be your mother, child, God give me grace to mend my ways!"

The girl laughed and her freckled nose wrinkled with joy as she threw back her head and rode a triumphant lap about the dark room. "Fear not, Mamma. Another is coming after me, and she is as golden, lovely, perfect, and delicious as any child born to this Earth. Perhaps she'll please you more…"

And it happened just as the first girl said- after her came a tiny, perfect, pink, golden, dimpled, blue-eyed angel who had the decency to be born naked, squirming; who smiled a perfectly normal and content smile upon her rosebud lips which would not learn to speak for a decent amount of time.

Queen Beatrix and King Hal attempted to name their older daughter something good and decent, to give her a good start in the world, but the laughing child refused to answer any name but Tatterhood. Indeed, she refused to change her ratty vestments for those more befitting a princess. Never mind getting her to surrender her wooden spoon; and the goat was soon a ready and welcome site in the palace, at the dinner table, and everywhere Tatterhood went.

They succeeded in naming their second daughter, who took to her name, Cassandra, most readily. She proved to have a disposition as lovely and angelic as her face, and brought great joy to all her encountered her. She seemed the very soul of love and goodness personified in a single body- and many questioned how she could be related to her indomitable disgrace of a sister.

But just let someone call Tatterhood a disgrace within earshot of Cassandra! Just let them try to mock her beloved, wonderful sister, of whom she thought the entire world, and they would meet her less divine nature. Indeed, though seemingly so unlike in every way- appearance, temperament, etc.- the sisters were passionately devoted to and adored one another unreservedly. One grew in strangeness and a particularly fierce quality, and never stopped being precocious in a way that tired and sometimes scared the adults around her; the other grew in loveliness, sweetness, and a desire to do only good and right in the world.


	4. Rising To Meet The Bend

And so it came to be that ten years waxed and waned, and Queen Beatrix grew sick with fear that the goblins would come for her or, worse, her daughters that she loved so well.

But the tenth year passed with little evidence that evil creatures were lying in wait to ambush the castle and steal any of the royal family. Every day the Queen waited, but every day nothing happened. And so she watched her daughters closely, but allowed them still the freedom to learn about themselves and the world around them. She taught them to value their wits and their ingenuity. She never restricted them from running about, riding horses (or goats, as was the case for Tatterhood), or doing any of the athletic things that most girls of the time were forbidden.

She encouraged Cassandra's quests for truth and knowledge, and encouraged Tatterhood in her headstrong refusal to bend to the will of others. With both of them she promoted the sense that they could rely only on themselves in this world, despite being born to a life of privilege and grace in such a lovely place. She impressed upon them the idea that life was a road, and seeing around the bend is impossible to us all, so we must rise and meet each turn with bravery and strength.

The people of the land knew Cassandra to be the very ideal of a princess- charitable, unassuming, always trying to impart to others her happiness in life itself. To a one they loved her and looked forward to a time when she would be their leader, knowing she would care for them as well as her parents- though none were anxious for Queen Beatrix and King Hal to cease their reign, the more pragmatic among them recognized that it must, one day, be so.

But Tatterhood was regarded with care and caution by the populace. None knew what she would say or do from one moment to the next, and it worries people to be in the presence of the unpredictable. She seemed uncanny, strange, and unusual, and that was just their response to her appearance! It must be said that, outside of the palace, none could seem to accept Tatterhood's propensity for wearing clothes that made her look a beggar, for refusing to do anything with her disorderly red hair which flew around and about her as she would ride through towns and country on her goat. And who had ever heard of a girl who would rather ride a goat than any of the king's glorious white stallions? Add to that the spoon and people were most disconcerted by her- they would not understand her, and their confusion regarding her was viewed, by her, as a source of endless amusement (that she took no insult at their censure was even further cause of confusion). It must be said that, outside of her own family, few took great notice of Tatterhood except to disdain her, even if that reaction were only noted within their own breasts. It would never do to openly say anything negative about a princess.

In this kingdom a young lady's coming of age happened on her thirteenth birthday, so you can only imagine the amazing celebrations which took place when the princesses achieved that landmark. Schools closed and work was cancelled for the adults. Before closing, all of the bakers in the kingdom had been happy to provide enough delicious foods and cakes and sweets and loveliness for the entire place to relax on the great day of celebration and partake, in the name of the Princesses Cassandra and Tatterhood.

The streets were strewn with banners in the signature colors of the girls- a satiny, silvery shade of pink in honor of Cassandra, a velvety forest green for Tatterhood. The bells tolled in the church towers, there were musicians on each corner, constantly playing such delightful reels and waltzes that dancing in the streets became quite the norm.

Within the palace itself, there were tables and tables of food. Such delights were not unknown in the kingdom, but to see so many in all one place was a thrill and delight to all in attendance. One table held just meats- venison, lamb, roasted and braised beef, entire suckling pigs, game of every size and shape, stewed in their own juices and seasoned to the point of introducing ecstasy to the tongue with every bite. Another table held only vegetables- raw and cooked, seasoned and plain, with any and every assortment of savory and sweet sauces to accompany them. One table contained breads- again, sweet and savory, from rye and pumpernickel to cinnamon buns, pastries of every shape and flavor, holding fruits, holding chocolates, holding sweet, sweet cheeses.

The palace itself was open to all and sundry, and guests were flitting in and out all day, wishing the sisters well, tasting a bit of the food available, and taking a turn on the dance floor. But none wished to be too greedy, so they would soon clear out and give others a chance for the same, and so it continued all day.

Sundown found the two delighted, laughing, and slightly tired sisters twirling around the floor in one another's arms. Tatterhood, of course, wore her tattered old hood and still, even while dancing, held her spoon in one hand (her goat was off to the side of the ballroom, partaking of the sweet grass which had been brought in a palette for her particular enjoyment, the king refusing to hear of even the goat being shut out of the joy of the day).

Cassandra's gown, made of palest satin, with seed pearls sewn at the pink, pink seams, was the first floor-length gown she'd been allowed. Her masses of blonde curls were piled loftily upon her head, though by then some of the curls were escaping their bonds, skimming her forehead, neck, and shoulders in a most becoming way. She felt quite grown-up with her long, long skirt, and her hair up for the first time. She could think of no felicity superior to whirling in practiced circles with her lovely and loving sister laughing into her face, sharing in the happiness that belonged to them both, as well as everyone else.

Suddenly, there was a clamor and clangor, and noise seemed to explode into the room. Panic ensued as most of the partygoers attempted to flee, and the band could not decide if they should keep playing or not, so some stopped, some fled, and some kept playing in a stalwart fashion (although, with the amount of the king's fine champagne that had flowed in their direction all day, it is possible that they were not steadfast so much as intoxicated to the point of failing to notice the commotion, or perhaps they mistook it for noise within their own head).

Tatterhood and Cassandra were quickly found amidst the melee by their parents, and taken to the side of the floor.

"They've come! They've come! They said they would and they are here now- it is the goblins! I've never told a soul, but I met them in the forest and they swore they'd have either me or my daughters for their own! I'd hoped they'd forgotten, but here they are. We must… flee? Hide? Hope they get bored soon?"

Queen Beatrix was seldom at a loss for ideas, words, or bravery, nor was King Hal, but her fear seemed to be affecting the queen, and surprise had taken the king so that all he could do was open and close his mouth in shock. Tatterhood took half an instant to accept her mother's words and settle on a plan.

"Mother, Father- take Cassandra and all of the guests you can, especially the servants, we must protect them, and go into the secret room hidden in the paneled mirror wall. Do it quickly- I will see to the goblins. Do not open the door until the noise is over and done- that is how you will know I've rousted these fools. Go now!"

And so they listened, and did. It was a well-hid door in the mirror, and none would know it were there unless told, and it was not difficult for most of the royal family and the servants still present to slip into it unseen in the confusion of the room. Tatterhood got her goat and mounted, then began to run it in circles on the dance floor, loudly singing a bawdy song.

The goblins had soared in through an open door, but now that most of the guests had escaped, the door was closed. The sun was traveling down, but it illuminated the window which faced west, which was formed of diamonds. The light shot and speckled and split and illuminated the damage wrought by the goblins. Tables of food overturned, the far wall, entirely comprised of the mirror behind which the rest of Tatterhood's family hid, was shattered in many places. Chandeliers had been struck from the ceiling, shattering and scattering their glass across the marble floors.

And still, the goblins rode about and about, looking for more that they could hurt. There were ten of them this time, and such a ruckus they made! But the Queen of Goblins was determined to make even more.

"Oh, False Queen," she cried. "Ten years ago, I let you go from our forest, and promised to return. You'll see I've kept my word! You know you shall belong to us from now on, to cook and to serve us in our house that is in the far Island of Ghouls. This is your duty and if you won't come, we'll have your children in your stead!"

At the end of this speech was when she first spied Tatterhood, riding her goat, waving her spoon, and singing in such a loud voice that it was echoing in the great, nearly empty, room. Who was this, this child- the one who did not know to fear goblins? She must be feeble-minded, the goblin thought.

"You, girl! What are you on about? Can you not see that we are attacking this place, to claim that which is ours? Why do you ride about like that, as if you did not fear us?"

Tatterhood's plan had worked well so far- the goblins were no long flying around helter-skelter, but zooming low and near to her, which was important for the next bit to work.

"I do not fear goblins! You don't smell pleasant, but aside from that, what should I fear? Why should you scare me?"

"People fear us because we have great powers! And we are fierce and ugly and might touch them and taint them with our foulness!"

"Ah, but, understand- I have great powers, myself, so I need not fear yours. And for fierceness- I have tamed a goat to let me ride her! I fear not your fierceness compared with hers. And as for being ugly- I think you're fine-looking. Such an interesting color, your skin is. And how does it glisten so, when you're not in the water? And your ears are so large and so round- I think I should like to kiss them! Might I kiss your lovely, lovely ears? Or your round, round head? I shall kiss you!"

Tatterhood had hit upon the very thing most repugnant to the goblins- worse even than lemons and the promise of a clean house. Goblins cannot abide affection, they resent touch coming to them in form that was not violent or angry, and a loving kiss was a wretched thought to them. Most of them began screaming at Tatterhood's words and they immediately flew away, trying to escape her eager, young lips.

Tatterhood nudged her goat into action and took off after the goblins as best she could, but she succeeded only in catching their queen. As if unaware of the repugnance in her arms, Tatterhood wasted no time but planted a kiss on the squirming form, squarely on the bald, green flesh between the goblins large ears.

Such a scream came forth from the queen, and it sounded so human in its agony, that Cassandra felt her spirit wrench within her. Within the room, where all the others were huddled on the far side, in the dark, she knew she had to see what was happening. She knew Tatterhood could expel the goblins if any could, but part of her feared for her safety, and she also thought she'd like to see Tatterhood's triumph for herself.

Cassandra then crept to the door, inched it open just enough to poke her fair head through and into the ballroom. She managed to see a scene such as she could not have imagined. Most of the goblins were leaving, but one had returned to help the queen, who was now screaming in the throes of death in Tatterhood's arms, and her body had begun to smoke. A moment later the flesh melted away and Tatterhood was left holding empty clothing and covered in foul slime.

In response to this, the one goblin who felt enough loyalty to the queen to return to help her gave a fell shout. The girl had murdered his queen!

At that moment, he saw Cassandra's head poking through the door. In a flash, he flew past her and was gone. Tatterhood looked over toward the noise just in time to see a most amazing thing- he had taken Cassandra's head and replaced it with that of a calf! And then, just then, he was gone with the rest of the goblins, Cassandra's head secure in his arms as they all flew back to their Island of ghouls.

_Author's Note: I would, again, like to thank all of my overly kind reviewers! You are all so nice to be reading my story! I hope you keep liking it..._


	5. There And Back Again more or less

Tatterhood relentlessly chastised those who were in the room with Cassandra, those who should have been responsible for stopping her foolishness- right down to the king and queen themselves. Cassandra, for her part, merely went to all fours and gamboled over to share in the sweet grass with Tatterhood's goat, who was glad of the company.

Tatterhood then explained, calmly, and with great care, that her father must fit out and trim his fastest ship so that she might go and retrieve the sweet, stolen prize of the goblins. It took a while for the king to assent to this request, especially once Tatterhood made in plain that only she and what remained of her sister would be going on this particular quest.

But Queen Beatrix knew that it must be so. She somehow knew that God had sent this wild, willful, zephyr of a girl into the world for such a reason as this- to prove her mettle by protecting and defending her sister. Many were the princesses born into the world who shared Cassandra's good looks and sweet spirit, but none were so blessed as to have a sister of such strength and determination that she tamed a goat in the womb.

And so it was that all was in place. Tatterhood, Cassandra, and the goat set sail to find the Island of Ghouls and undo the horrid magic that had taken Cassandra for its victim.

It was not so long a journey as a strange one. But, being born of flower and weed fed by moonlight next to the Sanguine River, both of the sisters withstood all challenges most bravely and with their humor in tact (though it was difficult to tell what Cassandra found humor in, seeing as lowing became her typical response to all situations). Finally, the sisters arrived at the Island of Ghouls.

Like many terrible things in life, when faced head-on, the Island was not to very terrible as its reputation. True, it was surrounded by clouds and it seemed no sunlight could penetrate its fortress-like cover. True, the trees were heavy and thick, and there was not so much as a path to be found from the craggy shore, but goat-riders need not fear such things, especially with a strong wooden spoon speared out before their faces for clearing branches and brush.

And so Tatterhood, who had left Cassandra locked safely below deck on the ship, wended her way through the trees and through the trees, venturing ever closer to the abode of the goblins. She knew was going in the right direction because the goblins were making an unholy lot of noise and the rest of the forest was silent. At first she thought they were having funeral rites of some sort for the queen. But upon reaching them, she saw the dingy tin crown atop the head of a certain goblin, and realized that they were celebrating his coronation as their new leader.

The goblin house did not seem too peculiar except for one important quirk- it had no doors or walls. It had a ceiling supported by beams, but it was wide open. This was how Tatterhood came to spy her sister's head, sitting on a mantle, watching the going-on of the strange creatures with a look of complete horror and disapproval.

Sparing not a moment for hesitation, Tatterhood spurning her goat on and, quick as lightning, rode into the house, such as it was. She grabbed her sister's head before riding away again, at an equally great speed.

In fact, she was so swift that she was a fine distance away before the goblins even realized she'd been there. But then, oh then, they gave chase. Then they flew on their broomsticks and flew so fast they soon caught up to Tatterhood.

As one of her arms were now holding her sister's head, she could not grab and kiss as she would have liked. Instead, she had to settle for lashing out with her wooden spoon, bopping the goblins on the head when they got close enough, swatting them on the pants if they were in a position for that. Soon they all, one by one, fell to the ground, howling, clutching whichever part of their unfortunate anatomy had met with her painful wooden spoon. By the time she reached the shore and her goat leapt them both back onto the deck, the goblins had all fallen to the wayside, deciding to find something to amuse them besides the girl who only doled out punishment and cruelty. Besides, with their queen dead, none could remember why Queen Beatrix or her daughters had mattered in the first place.

Tatterhood forgot the goblins, though, in her hurry to return Cassandra to her natural state. She rushed to unlock the door, behind which was her sister. Once the calf's eyes made eye contact with Cassandra, the spell was revoked and both were where they rightly belonged again.

But, having begun on this adventure, the sisters felt more inclined to continue on their way than to return home. They took one of the messenger birds that King Hal kept on board, and sent a message home- it said that they were both whole and healthy, but the call of the sea was one they would answer.

Beatrix shook her head and smiled ruefully upon receiving the letter- through complete accident or inescapable fate, the Goblin Queen had kept her promise. She had taken away the Queen's daughters. But, Beatrix sighed, this was what she'd raised them for- to dree their own weird, to follow their path, and to not be satisfied with anything but their heart's desire. She said a prayer that they would find it, and that it would bring them home eventually, and went for a turn about the garden with her husband.

For three years the sisters sailed hither and yon, near and far, out and beyond and back again. They had many, many adventures, which I won't share here because they are not this part of this story (although, sometime, I'll tell you how Tatterhood bound Death itself in a canvas bag and beat it with her spoon). This story comes around three years after the girls, now definitely women, set off to sail beyond the sunset.

Those years had been good and fun and all sorts of other things, but Tatterhood took it into her head that Cassandra must be wed. Cassandra did not necessarily see things thusly, but figured she might as well wed as not, so she promised to do what Tatterhood thought best.

It came to pass that the sisters steered their boat into port in a kingdom called Olledrob on a fine Spring day. They were the only ones on the water, and everyone on land soon took notice of them. They took even greater notice when it was observed that there was no visible crew for the small ship- but there was a young woman wearing ugly clothes, waving a spoon, and riding a goat around and around on the deck! Such oddness soon became the talk of the entire community.

The next day Tatterhood was out riding on the deck again when the harbormaster approached her. He asked her name and she said she refused to answer. He asked a few more questions, but she as steadfastly refused to answer all of them, except to offer that she was a princess and would only answer the questions of a prince.

Finding this odd, the harbormaster decided to send the message to the palace and wash his hands of the whole affair.

That night Cassandra asked if she'd stayed hidden long enough, and Tatterhood replied that, no, hiding was still necessary, but not for much longer. Cassandra was actually having fun being below deck and polishing all of the treasure they'd accumulated over the years (she knew it sounded silly, but making things shine the way they wanted to shine made her feel happy). And so, the next day, she remained there, and Tatterhood returned to the top deck and continued riding.

At noon an envoy came, and there could be no doubt who was involved- the banner of the royal family was carried at the lead of the riders. Heading the party was a man of dark complexion and upright carriage- he could only be a prince, Tatterhood decided, and grinned, knowing her plan was working for the good of all involved.

As for Prince Barney, he was quite pleased that the sight he now beheld was every bit as odd as what he'd been hearing. Rumors of the unusual ship and its still more unusual inhabitant had reached the palace almost as the boat had docked, and he found his curiosity aroused. He wanted to see the quirk of a boat manned by a single lass, and she one with ugly clothes, red red hair, and a goat for a beast of burden. Really, he thought to himself, who gets to see such a thing in their life?

When the harbormaster had passed along the message that the woman claimed to be a princess and would only converse further with a prince, Barney had leapt to the challenge. Let his older brother, Prince Damien, skulk about the palace and see to the tedious day-to-day chores of being the first-born. He, the younger prince who was allowed to follow his whims more easily, would investigate the first interesting person to arrive in the kingdom since that nutty old man who claimed to be a wizard who could remember time backwards.

And so he came, and he saw, and Prince Barney laughed with joy at beholding the vision before him. He rode his horse down the beach, leaving his fellow riders behind, and shouted to the ship.

"Princess- my name is Prince Barney and I bid you fond greetings!"

Tatterhood laughed and rode to the rail of the ship.

"Greetings to you, Prince Barney! My name is Tatterhood and I wish you good morrow!"

"Will you tell me if you are all alone on your ship?"

"Yes, I'll tell you. If you'll finish a sentence, you may meet my shipmate. Agreed?"

"… certainly!" Barney had no idea what she was on about, but somehow knew only good things would happen if he played along.

"One sparrow does not…"

"… a Spring make."

"Excellent!" Tatterhood clapped her hands and the goat pawed the planks of the deck, seemingly in agreement. "A bird in the hand is worth…"

"Two in the bush!"

"Delightful!" Tatterhood flung out her arms and laughed. Though he knew not what amused her so, Barney found her laugh so infectious that he shared in it and sent it rippling back to her.

"Tell me now, Prince Barney- one last question if I may." He nodded his assent, a smile still on his face. "Are you the oldest?"

"Nay, good lady. I have a brother to bear that burden. I am the younger of the two princes of our royal house."

"If that be the case, Prince Barney, please come aboard!"

Tatterhood lowered the gangplank and ran to fetch her sister.

"Cassandra- he has met my standards for you and if you want, he's yours for the asking. He has the kindest eyes and wisest laugh- and he knows his proverbs. I think he'll be fine match for you, if you'd like to have him. Come with me."

And, so, when Barney reached the deck, he was soon met with the vision of the woman of his dreams emerging from below deck. True, Cassandra's hands were covered in silver polish and she was wearing an ugly old smock so as not to dirty any of her regular clothes, but he looked to her and saw only the sweetness in the curve of her lips, the slight gap in her front teeth, the welcome in her eyes, and courage of her heart in the way she moved. He took one instant to take this all in, recognize Cassandra for what she was, and immediately lowered himself to one knee.

"My dearest lady! If you be not married, please grant me hope that you may accept my proposal- your sister says she is princess, and I believe you must be one as well, and I know this modest offer is hardly the appropriate way of approaching such a lady, but I am moved to speak at once. Marry me! We can live here, we can go to your kingdom, we can sail the seven seas or settle in a hovel on the mountaintop. If you give me your hand, all of my fortunes at your feet I'll lay, to follow you, my lady, around the world."

At this he moved to take her hand, but just then Cassandra became suddenly mindful of the polish on them. She averred, but he won out. It was his eagerness to bespoil his white gloves with the black polish, just to hold her hand, as much as the honesty of his outburst that moved her to lower herself to her knees as well.

"Sir, though we don't know each other, I feel getting to know you, and learning to work together for the good of both our kingdoms, shall be the great delight of my life. I accept your offer- on one condition."

Tatterhood looked at her sister, wondering where this odd stipulation was leading, but Prince Barney leapt to his feet.

"Name it, and it shall be yours, I swear it!"

"I've no desire to leave my sister to be alone when I am married. If you have someone that will marry her- a prince, of course- I will marry you."

"Absolutely not! I'll not be had as a bargain for some grumpy first-born who doesn't want me but whose brother forced him into an arrangement in order for him to have the greater prize of you!"

Prince Barney was standing, amazed, trying to work out exactly how to bend his brother to his will in this matter. Of course, Damien must take the Tatterhood- there was no way he would be deprived of his bride, and if her happiness hinged on marrying off her sister, he would see it done. Surely, there had to be some matter with which Barney could blackmail his brother- if he could only think of it…

Cassandra took Tatterhood aside and whispered.

"You think I ought to marry? Fine- I accept your judgment regarding the matter. I trust you in all things, you know that, Sister. So, we come here, and you find a man that, even I can see, is so well-suited to me, I might have ordered him special from a store. This I accept, for this I am pleased.

"But what of you? Perhaps I believe it is also time for you to marry! Perhaps I worry that, wherever I go with Prince Barney, you may not be there. Perhaps I must see you taken care of and loved- where would you be with no one to love you? Who will love you if not me? I tell you, Sister- I see good things coming to pass if you only go along with this plan of mine. It shall all work out and we shall all be happy- trust me."

"I will not be bought in this manner, but I will consent to meet the brother. Is that enough for now?"

Cassandra laughed and nodded. She kissed her sister's cheek and turned back to Barney, who was still trying to recall if Damien had ever done anything immoral and if he, Barney, had any proof of it. To Damien's credit, there was nothing, which accounted for Barney's confusion.

"My sister says she would like to meet your brother, but does not promise to marry him. I propose this- tomorrow, you will ride down here, to our boat, with an entire retinue. I will be waiting for you, to go to your palace and meet your family, so we can be married within the week. When you come tomorrow, your brother will accompany you, and as we ride to the palace, he will ride as companion to Tatterhood."

Barney almost floated away in his relief and joy at Cassandra's words. He embraced her and then jumped back, afraid he'd been improper. She laughed (he found her laugh to be even more infectious than Tatterhood's and envisioned a life filled with making that sound come from her lips constantly) and threw her arms around him. Tatterhood stood to the side, shaking her head- trust her sister to decide that this situation was the time for her to attempt to earn her name…

_Author's Note: Again, I can't thank enough the people who have said kind and encouraging things in the writing of this story- you'll never know how much it means to me! We're nearing the home stretch with this one, there should only be one more chapter left... Thank you all for reading and please review if you'd care to- I appreciate it so much!_


	6. Even If It's Hepzibah

_Author's Note: This final chapter is dedicated to all of you who have read, especially those who have reviewed, my story. I can't tell you all what it means to have you say such kind things to me! You are all wonderful and I love you all! I hope this last bit is to your liking- please keep letting me know what you think... sorry that I overuse exclamation points in my author's notes. I don't know why it happens that way- it just does._

The next morning was spent getting Cassandra ready to welcome the traveling reception of honor that would be coming to claim them both. She would not stop laughing and giggling, and Tatterhood was equal parts frustrated that her sister did not take the task more seriously and delighted that her sister was so happy.

Cassandra kept asserting that, ere they reached the palace, Tatterhood would hold the heart of the older brother, just as she, herself, held the heart of the younger. Tatterhood kept ignoring her and pinning the locks of blonde hair into place. She took no more notice of her own toilet this morning than any other, and, indeed, was half-tempted to find some sticks to put in her hair to make herself even less appealing to Prince Damien.

Finally, the royal trumpets sounded, announcing that the procession had reached the dock. Cassandra walked out first, glowing with happiness and love, causing all assembled to gasp at her beauty and consider how very, very lucky their prince was.

Prince Damien felt heartened seeing Cassandra- for one sister to be so lovely, it would be impossible, would it not, for the other to truly verify the reports of her that had reached his ears? But then he saw Tatterhood and his heart fell somewhat- she was exactly as described, and more- there was an almost eerie wildness in Tatterhood's face which was difficult to convey using only words. Perhaps it was born of stubbornness, or of a general air of defiance. Either way, he had to admit, she was at the very least captivating.

They were introduced using old words and ways that had been taught to them all from infancy. Having such etiquette on hand was particularly useful during moments when Damien would rather think than pay attention. The more he considered the matter, Tatterhood was actually different in a way that he could not easily grasp. He was used to meeting princesses who were lovely, but had been taught to hide all glimmer of personality, of individuality, of any thought which had not been thought at least a hundred times before flitting across their consciousness. Tatterhood looked, with no effort, like a woman who knew her own mind and who would speak it at any opportunity. He found himself curious to hear what she would have to say.

The procession began to wend through the town and Tatterhood's discomfort became palpable. She was most certainly out of her element. Riding through the town, waving to the people, receiving their questioning glances, and meeting their eyes with her trademark defiance, was beginning to wear on her nerves.

"Are you troubled, Princess?" Queried Damien.

Used to the freedom of the open seas, Tatterhood forgot herself and the fact that she ought to say something demure and unassuming.

"Truly, I find the scrutiny of the public to be wearying."

"Indeed? You seem like someone who does not give much consideration to the kind of attention she receives from others."

Tatterhood sighed. "I usually do not. But, for some reason, today…"

Damien soon drew Tatterhood out of her inexplicable shell of tenseness by asking about her travels with her sister, and she was soon regaling him with tale after tale, some flattering toward her and her sister, some not, but all tinged with a sort of adventure and daring that had never had a chance to touch the life of Damien. He was more than captivated now- he was envious.

After a mile's worth of conversation, Damien felt comfortable enough to ask the burning question on his mind.

"May I ask, dear lady, why you carry a wooden spoon?"

Tatterhood laughed, and Damien had a chance to enjoy the gleam in her eyes as she did so. "Is it a spoon, or is it a magical scepter, able to change its appearance according to what I will?"

In the blink of an eye, or perhaps before his very eyes, the wooden spoon seemed to melt, to stretch, to darken. Now, it was no longer what it had seemed to be- it was a polished, black, bejeweled scepter, as Tatterhood had said. It gleamed, it shone, its sapphires and amethysts seemed to capture the sunshine and send it back to the watcher's eyes, split into a million pieces, each with a lovely vivacity.

Then she laughed again and the spoon was once more a spoon.

"It serves my purposes better to have a wooden spoon than a scepter. And so, this is what I have. If you'd rather, I can leave it in its other form…"

"No- indeed. As long as your will is served, I am content."

Tatterhood seemed to consider Prince Damien anew at this comment. She tilted her head and the goat gave a bleat. She shushed the animal, murmured something to it, and petted it lovingly between its horns. But, she agreed with the goat- she had met princes who were polite, and some who were solicitous. Never had she met one who seemed so genuinely kind as the Prince Damien- one who was so interested in talking to her and learning about her; for him it did not seem to be an obligation, he appeared to be interested in her, and genuinely good-hearted.

"I suppose that next, sir, you'll be asking why I ride on a goat instead of some sort of noble steed."

"Perhaps the question was in my mind, but I would not ask it now. You may answer or not, as you will."

"Why not ask?"

"I have a notion that I might already know the answer." Damien wondered if it sounded like he was teasing her, and figured she might end up thinking that. But, in the meantime, it was another five miles to the palace, and they continued at the strange, halting pace of such processions. He felt guaranteed to enjoy the rest of the journey, just watching her face as she thought, the way her head was thrown back when she laughed, and even the way the goat seemed to bleat at particular points in conversation, as if it were joining in. Of course, being a goat belonging to Tatterhood, he suspected it might actually be voicing its thoughts, it was his failing that he could not understand them.

"Besides- come to that, a steed of some sort might not be able to add to the conversation so fully as… How foolish of me not to have asked before. What is your goat's, name, Tatterhood?"

Never, in all of her years, had anyone asked her what her goat was named. Tatterhood had named her, of course. When she named the creature she had told Cassandra, and so the only one who might have asked never needed. But, still...

"Her name is Penelope."

"For her steadfast nature?"

Tatterhood's eyes went wide and she could only nod. Not even Cassandra had understood the goat's name and it's significance, or thought that it reflected the animal's own nature.

Damien nodded. "A good name. With one such as this, who could need a horse?"

Penelope bleated a thank you, and Damien almost understood. He began to wonder if his nearness to Tatterhood, his gradual acclimation to her nature and mode of thinking, were aiding his understanding. He smiled- perhaps she was bewitching him.

"Will you not ask why I wear this horrid old cloak instead of clothing more suited to my stature?"

"No."

"Do you not care?"

"Tatterhood-" Here, Damien reached out a hand and caught Tatterhood's. He gently nudged his horse aside, and he left the path, weaving between the others in the queue. Tatterhood, finding it slightly awkward to be riding a goat and holding the hand of a man on a horse which was so much higher, simply let him lead her.

Once they were to the side of the path, Damien dismounted and turned to Tatterhood. She remained sitting on Penelope, but was taken aback- both by fact that they had left the path at Damien's urging, and also by the fact that she had let herself be lead by him… she had never been one to follow.

Damien lifted Tatterhood's face to his, and he was able to tell, for the first time, that her eyes were of the clearest amber- a weird shade of dark yellow. Their color seemed to make them sharper, and he felt that she could look all the way through him, that they could discern his intentions and the desires of his very heart.

For her part, Tatterhood looked into Damien's eyes and realized that they were purple. She'd never seen anyone with purple eyes, and wanted to keep looking. She saw past his obligations to the throne, saw how lonesome he was, how he longed for something, someone who was Different. She saw that, as the first-born, he'd always felt set apart, committed to something else, and his greatest desire was to find a partner- someone to understand and to conquer his solitude. Someone to share his obligations and lighten them in the sharing; someone who would share his love and devotion to country- a woman who would desire to be queen one day, not for love of jewels and power, but for love of the people, and love for the king.

"Tatterhood- I understand fully that, with a thought, with a wave of your spoon, you could be just like those other princesses. You could be someone wearing the most fashionable attire, riding a gleaming white stallion, with ropes of pearls in your long, shining hair. You could do that in an instant, were it your desire.

"But it's sensible to have a spoon, it's interesting riding your wonderful Penelope. You've spent years protecting your sister and yourself, making plans, finding strange adventures and odd rewards- you haven't the time to worry about something as frivolous as clothes; your tattered old hood suits you fine, and you never need to let worry for spoiling your finery hold you back from any pursuit.

"And, as for your hair, which my brother warned me about- I think it quite beautiful and would not wish for it to change. It is beautiful, bright, wild- just like you.

"So, I ask you not to change anything unless it is what you desire. If you'd rather wear nice clothes, wear them. If you'd rather a horse, fine. If you'd prefer to have your hair long and set about with jewels and all frippery- by all means, make it so. But none of it shall be done on my account, because I want to marry you, however you look."

"Marry me? You want to marry me?"

"Yes, Tatterhood."

"You know, I have another name. Would you prefer it?"

"Actually, I rather like Tatterhood- but you still haven't said if you'll marry me and, long as the answer's yes, I'll call you whatever you like. I'll call you Fitzwilliam if it please you."

She smiled and was slightly overwhelmed by the air of sincerity which radiated forth from him.

"I'm a princess, you're a prince. If I demanded you return to my kingdom, would you still marry me?"

"No. It would pain me a great deal to say no to you on any matter, but I cannot leave my people. I was born to serve them, and I cannot leave them; no matter what my heart desires, no matter my own happiness."

"One last thing… Finish this sentence and I'll consider answering yes to you: An ounce of medicine is…"

"… worth a pound of cure. Wait- what?"

"In our land, there is a bit of a superstition that a man who knows his bromides must be sensible, intelligent, and all good, manly things. You want to marry me, Prince Damien?"

He nodded.

"And I don't need to give up my clothes, my Penelope, or my spoon?"

He shook his head, no.

"Then, yes- I think I should very much like to marry you."

He leaned toward her, and wound his hands into her hair. Without hurting her a mite, he held her hair and he kissed her. He felt a shifting underneath his hands and broke the kiss, only to find… a different Tatterhood.

Her wild, kinky hair was long, plaited, interwoven with amber jewelry to match her eyes, and which also matched the choker around her neck. She was wearing a gown of darkest indigo, made of softest velvet, which was cut to show off the loveliness of her shoulders, the trimness of her waist, the length of her legs. Penelope was gone- or rather, had been transformed into a horse of the most delicate shade of cream. The spoon was once more a bejeweled scepter. The smudges of dirt were gone from her face and her freckles shone to their best, sprinkled across her little snub nose.

"Did I do that?"

"Well, it seems that this happened when you kissed me, so yes. You did."

"I liked your hair before- It was reassuring that I put my hands in your hair and it was as if your hair held onto them. And…"

"If I was stuck like this- all prim and proper, all princess-like- would you still want to marry me?"

"Yes, Tatterhood."

"Oh, and if my name were Hepzibah?"

"Don't tell me- your parents didn't really try to name you Hepzibah!"

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours."

He sighed and then smiled widely, showing off the crinkles around his eyes, the ones Tatterhood longed to kiss, and was beginning to imagine that, perhaps, she'd have a lifetime to attend.

"Tatterhood- you're the one I want, the only one I've ever wanted. I know it's your choice, of course, but I hate the thought of you ever leaving my side. So, yes, I'll take you like this, I'll take you any way you are willing to come to me."

This time Tatterhood was the one who took Damien's face in hers and brought it down for a kiss. And when the kiss broke, some things were as they were before, but some were not. Tatterhood shrugged-

"I liked the dress."

And so it was that Prince Damien and Tatterhood remounted their animals- Damien upon his horse named Teddy, Tatterhood upon her lovely Penelope- and returned to the path. Tatterhood's hair was wild, unkempt, and careless. Her wooden spoon was tucked into a pocket on her beautiful, velvet gown, and her hand was securely being held by Damien's.

That day, the celebration of the small land of Olledrob knew no bounds- to have both princes wed to such happy choices of brides (though people thought Tatterhood odd at first, once she accepted the prince's proposal, her happiness shone out of her like glory and all and sundry decided she was the perfect woman to marry their prince)! There were feasts and dances, and the two happy couples led every dance, toasted every bottle of champagne, and laughed louder than any of the other revelers.

They all returned to the kingdom from whence came Cassandra and Tatterhood, and there was much rejoicing on behalf of the reunited royal family. Cassandra and Barney stayed on, to inherit the kingdom from King Hal and Queen Beatrix. Tatterhood and Damien returned to Olledrob, and went on to reign in an era of lasting peace, tranquility, happiness, and good humor.

When they were alone together, Tatterhood even let Damien call her by her given name- which he was relieved to discover was not, actually, Hepzibah. It was Olivia, for the curious among you, but do not try to call her such, she will not heed your words. For she always has been, always will be, Tatterhood in faith and spirit, in fact and truth. And long live Queen Tatterhood!

**The End**


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